Karen's Big Weekend Read online

  “Cool!” I exclaimed.

  And Andrew raised his fist and cried, “Yes!”

  I wanted to go skating right away, but Mommy and Seth said we had to eat breakfast first. We took the elevator to the hotel lobby, and we found a booth in the coffee shop. I love eating breakfast in restaurants. But that morning I was too excited to eat more than a few bites. So was Andrew. Mostly, he just played with the salt shaker.

  Finally Seth said to Mommy, “We might as well leave.”

  Before I knew it, we were looking at the tree again. And soon we were lacing up our rented skates. All four of us. Mommy and Seth and Andrew and I. Seth helped me onto the ice, but then he let go of my hand. I am a pretty good skater, good enough to glide around by myself. I watched the other skaters. I saw a man and a woman holding hands and skating together like skaters on TV. I saw a girl who could skate backward. I saw a boy practicing jumps. I saw a little kid in a fat snowsuit who kept falling — plop — on his bottom. Then I looked up and I saw a lot of people looking down. They were watching the skaters. I waved to them, and a few of them waved back.

  Around and around I skated. I kept passing Seth and Mommy and Andrew. After awhile my legs felt tired. I slowed down. Then Andrew fell down. Mommy said, “I think that is enough skating.”

  We turned in our skates.

  “Who wants to try hot chestnuts?” asked Seth. “A New York treat.”

  I had never eaten hot chestnuts, but if they were New York treats, then I would try them. “Me!” I cried.

  Seth bought a little bag of chestnuts from a man who was selling them on his cart near the street. He helped me peel away the shell (it was very hot) and then I bit into the nut.

  “Mmm, flavorful,” I said.

  We walked around and ate our chestnuts. I kept my eyes out for a store where I could buy my holiday presents.

  “Hey! Look at that candy store!” I exclaimed.

  Andrew and I gazed in the window. We saw an enormous chocolate Santa. It must have been two feet tall. A sign next to it said SOLID MILK CHOCOLATE. All sorts of wonderful chocolate things were in that window: a chocolate train and a chocolate Christmas tree and an entire chocolate village.

  “Let’s go in,” I said. Maybe I would buy wonderful New York chocolate surprises for my friends.

  Guess how much that Santa in the window cost. Sixty dollars. Sixty. Six-oh. More than one of the sweaters at Macy’s. Well, for heaven’s sake. I looked at some other things in the store. The smallest box of chocolate candies cost nearly twenty-five dollars. I decided Hannie and Nancy did not need chocolate. It would give them cavities, and besides, it was not very personal.

  But what was I going to buy for them?

  The Christmas Book

  While Mommy walked around the candy store with Andrew and me, Seth stood outside. He was reading a newspaper. It had been delivered to our hotel room that morning. As soon as we left the store, Seth said, “I just read something very interesting. An author is signing copies of his new children’s book today. He is signing them at a store that sells only children’s books. And it is just a few blocks from here. Who wants to go? You could meet a real live author.”

  Of course we all wanted to go. (Even though we have already met one real live author who visited a store in Stoneybrook once.)

  The bookstore turned out to be wonderful. On the sign in front was a picture of Paddington Bear. Inside were books, books, books, everywhere we looked. Picture books and fairy tales and mysteries and books of poetry. Books about people and books about animals and books about science and books about sports.

  Oh, boy. I knew we would spend lots of time in there. I did not know what to do first. I wanted to look around. I also wanted to stand on line to meet Mr. Arthur McBain.

  Mommy solved the problem for me. “Let’s get on line now,” she said, “while it is still short.” Then she picked up a book from a stack on a table. “This is the new story Mr. McBain just wrote,” she told Andrew and me. “Why don’t you take a look at it while we wait.”

  The line inched along toward a table at the back of the store. If I stood on tiptoe I could see the top of Mr. McBain’s head. He had white hair.

  “Maybe he knows Santa Claus,” Andrew whispered to me.

  “Maybe,” I whispered back.

  I read Mr. McBain’s book to Andrew. It was about Christmas in a long-ago village, and talking animals, a shepherd, and a star.

  When we reached the head of the line, Andrew said to Mr. McBain, “We like your book. Thank you for writing it.”

  And I said, “Will you sign it for us, please?”

  So he did. Guess what. I can write cursive better than Mr. McBain. This is how he signed his name:

  Still, a book signed by a real author is very special. I got an idea. “Mommy,” I said, after we had said good-bye to Mr. McBain. “How much does the book cost?”

  “Fourteen ninety-five,” she replied.

  “Darn!” I said. “I thought maybe I could buy books for Hannie and Nancy, and then Mr. McBain could sign them. They would be terrific presents. But I can only spend seven dollars on each gift.”

  “Well,” said Mommy, “this book is a hardcover. Maybe the store carries some of his stories in paperback. They would not be so expensive.”

  But the store did not have any of Mr. McBain’s books in paperback. They had lots of paperbacks — but none by Mr. Arthur McBain.

  “Why don’t you buy books for Nancy and Hannie anyway?” suggested Seth. “You could get some nice paperbacks. Books are great gifts, and you and your friends love to read.”

  “I know,” I replied. “But I could buy plain old books anywhere. I want to bring Hannie and Nancy something special from New York. Like a signed book. Something I might not find in Stoneybrook.”

  “We have lots more time to look,” Mommy reminded me.

  “Right,” agreed Seth. “Anyway, you are in New York to have fun.”

  I was trying to have fun. But I could not help feeling an intsy bit disappointed. I did not know shopping could be such hard work.

  Magic Wands

  When we left the bookstore, Mommy said, “Now Karen, we are standing on Madison Avenue. One of the best streets for shopping in all of New York City. Let’s walk around for awhile.”

  “One of the best streets for shopping?” I repeated. I perked up. “Okay, let’s hit the stores!”

  “You can shop till you drop,” Seth said.

  And Andrew added, “You can shop until I say stop!”

  We came to a store with a real carousel in the window. But the store turned out to sell only lamps.

  “Boring,” said Andrew.

  We came to a store with old-fashioned baby dolls in the window. But it turned out to be a furniture store.

  “Pooh,” said Andrew.

  We came to a hardware store, a drug store, and a tiny grocery store.

  “Monkey breath,” said Andrew.

  Then we came to a gift store. I knew it would be too expensive for me, but I wanted to look inside anyway. So we opened the door and walked in. A little bell tinkled behind us.

  “Oh,” said Andrew softly. “Look up.”

  I looked above my head. From every inch of the ceiling hung mobiles and wind chimes. The wind chimes clinked and clanked and bonged and dinged. I felt as if I could stand under them forever with my eyes closed, just listening. But I knew I had to find those presents. And I knew I would not find them in the gift store. So after Mommy bought a Christmas present for Hannie’s mother, we left.

  I began to feel lucky because the very next store we came to — the one right next door — was a little toy store. It did not look too expensive. “Perfect!” I exclaimed. “I know I will find something here.”

  I looked and looked. I looked at every toy in that store. I found a terrific Troll, but Nancy already had one like it, and Hannie does not collect Trolls. I found some other things, too. But they did not seem just right. Finally I grabbed two magic wands.

 
“Are they what you really want to buy?” asked Seth.

  “No,” I admitted. I put the wands back. Then I burst into tears.

  Toys

  We left the toy store. Mommy hugged me. “Don’t worry, Karen,” she said. “You wil find something for your friends. I am very proud of you for not buying the wands. You are smart to wait until you find what you are really looking for.”

  “Whatever that is,” I said.

  “Chin up, Karen,” added Seth. “It is time to go to Maxie’s.”

  Maxie’s! I had almost forgotten about our plans for the afternoon. My little-house family and I took a cab to the Medvins’ apartment. Then Mommy and Seth left me there. They were going to take Andrew to the Children’s Museum. “ ’Bye!” we called to each other.

  I turned to Maxie. “What are we going to do today?” I asked her.

  “Maybe someone will take us to the park,” she replied. “Mom?”

  Mrs. Medvin was hurrying around the apartment. “I’m afraid not, honey,” she said. “Your father and I just remembered something.”

  “What?” asked Maxie.

  “The toy drive. It’s today.”

  “Oh, my gosh!” cried Maxie.

  “What is a toy drive?” I asked.

  “Everyone in our apartment building,” said Maxie, “has been collecting brand-new toys. Today we are going to give them to kids who do not have any homes.”

  “There is a center down the street,” added Maxie’s father. “Families who do not have homes can go there for help.” Mr. Medvin was staggering around with a stack of games and dolls. The living room was beginning to look like a toy store.

  “Santa Claus is going to hand out these presents,” said Mrs. Medvin. “We have to take everything over there right away.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Medvin, Kathryn, Leslie, Maxie, and I each picked up a pile of toys. We called good-bye to the baby-sitter. Then we rode to the lobby in the elevator. We met a lot of Maxie’s neighbors in the lobby. They were carrying toys, too.

  The center was actually called the West Side Family Center. It was down the block from Maxie’s, in an old, old building. Mr. Medvin led us inside to a room as big as the gym at my school. A party was going on there! Mothers and fathers and lots of kids were drinking punch and eating cookies and playing games.

  “All of these people,” said Maxie, “are homeless. They do not have enough money for a house or an apartment. So they sleep in shelters. Or sometimes they sleep here at the center. Or sometimes they sleep on the subway or even on the street. The people at the center are trying to help them find homes. They help them with clothes and food and doctors and other things, too.”

  I could not believe that so many people did not have homes.

  “Hey, look!” cried Maxie. “There’s Santa. Boy, we got here just in time.”

  A man in a Santa Claus suit began handing out the toys — one to every kid at the party.

  “Funny,” said Maxie. “It is not even Christmas yet, and now these kids have gotten their presents.”

  “Won’t they get more on Christmas Day?” I asked.

  “Oh, no. I don’t think so. Their families do not have enough money for presents. They do not even have enough for clothes. Or food.”

  “This is it?” I repeated. “These kids will only get one present for Christmas?”

  “Some kids do not get any presents, you know,” said Maxie. “A lot of kids are not as lucky as we are.”

  I had thought being lucky was winning a big contest, or taking a trip to New York City for the weekend. I had not thought about being lucky meaning that I could sleep in my own bed in my own room in my own house every night.

  I decided I was very, very, very, very, very lucky.

  Guys and Dolls

  Mommy and Seth and Andrew picked me up at the Medvins’ late that afternoon. Maxie and I had to say good-bye to each other.

  “I am glad I got to see your apartment,” I told Maxie.

  “Maybe someday I will see your house,” she replied.

  “I wish we could see each other again tomorrow. Maybe — ”

  “Karen,” said Mommy. “Time to go.”

  Maxie and I hugged each other. Then we waved and waved until the elevator came. “ ’BYE!” we shouted.

  My little-house family and I took a taxi back to our hotel. Mommy and Seth said we had to take a nap before dinner. All four of us.

  “We have planned a big evening,” said Seth as he stretched out on the bed.

  I did not think I would fall asleep, but the next thing I knew, Mommy was shaking me gently. “Wake up, honey,” she was saying. “Time to get dressed. Time for dinner and the show.”

  “Where are we eating dinner?” I asked sleepily.

  “At a restaurant called Rumpelmayer’s.”

  “Rumpelmayer’s!” shrieked Andrew. “Just like the fairy tale!”

  “Andrew. That is Rumpelstiltskin,” I told him.

  But when we sat down in Rumpelmayer’s, I decided it was a little like a fairy tale. It was all pink and white. It was decorated with stuffed animals. Best of all, on the menu were plenty of things for children. And Mommy said we could order dessert.

  “Rumpelmayer’s is famous for its desserts,” added Seth.

  Here is what we ordered for dessert: a hot fudge sundae for Andrew, a butterscotch sundae for me, and something called cappuccino for Mommy and Seth. I thought cappuccino sounded very wonderful and special. Guess what it turned out to be. Coffee. I really felt that if Mommy and Seth were going to come all the way to Rumpelmayer’s, they should order something better than coffee for dessert.

  “Tell me again what we are going to do next,” said Andrew as he ate his sundae. (He had smeared whipped cream all over his face.)

  “We are going to see a show,” replied Seth.

  “A play with lots of music and singing and dancing,” added Mommy. “It is called Guys and Dolls.”

  “In a theatre?” I asked.

  “In a beautiful theatre,” said Mommy.

  We took a taxi to the theatre. (It was not too far from Rumpelmayer’s.)

  Seth handed our tickets to a man at the door, and we stepped inside. The theatre was not nearly as big as Radio City Music Hall. But I felt excited anyway. I looked at those rows and rows of seats, and at all the dressed-up people. My heart began to pound.

  Later, when the curtain rose, I felt as if I were part of a story. I was out on the city streets, where Guys and Dolls takes place. And I wanted to sing and dance along with Miss Adelaide and Sky Masterson and Nathan Detroit and especially the man who was named Nicely-Nicely Johnson. The show was loud and wonderful. I hoped it would go on and on forever.

  I do not know how Andrew managed to fall asleep during it.

  When the show was over, Seth told the cab driver to take us to the hotel the long way. He wanted to drive under the snowflake and by the Christmas tree in the dark. So we did.

  By the time I fell asleep that night, my head was a whirl of music and dancing feet and colored lights and ice cream.

  St. Patrick’s

  “Time for church,” said Mommy. That is how she woke up Andrew and me on Sunday morning.

  “Church?” I repeated.

  “Do we have to?” asked Andrew.

  “Yes,” said Mommy. “To both of your questions.”

  “But I guarantee,” said Seth, “that you have never been to a church like the one you will see today.”

  Seth was right. He and Mommy took us to St. Patrick’s. We had passed it several times in cabs. And we had walked by it on Friday. (I recognized it as soon as I saw it.) But we had not been inside it.

  “Hmm,” I said as we stood at the bottom of the steps to the doors.

  “What?” asked Seth.

  “I was just thinking,” I said. “I do not know why people call New York an apple, but I know why they call it the Big Apple. Everything here is big. I have seen the biggest Christmas tree of my life. And Radio City Music Hall is the biggest theatr
e I have ever seen. The snowflake and the menorah are the biggest decorations I have ever seen. FAO Schwarz is the biggest toy store I have ever seen. And now St. Patrick’s is the biggest church I have ever seen.”

  Seth grinned. “Actually, it is a cathedral. Come on. Wait until you see the inside of it.” He began to climb the steps.

  Mommy and Andrew and I followed. We tiptoed through a doorway. I stopped short. The windows in St. Patrick’s were not plain old windows like the ones in our church in Stoneybrook. They were stained glass. I caught my breath. For a moment I could not take my eyes away from the windows. When I did, they fell on the rows of pews, the people walking along the stone floor, and the flowers by the altar. I knew I was in a place where I had to whisper, no matter what.

  I tugged at Mommy’s sleeve. “Can I have a quarter?” I asked her quietly.

  “What for?” replied Mommy. “Didn’t you bring your church money?”

  “Yes, but I want to put a coin in the wishing well,” I said, pointing.

  “Karen!” exclaimed Mommy softly. “That is not a wishing well. That is the Holy Water. Now settle down and listen.”

  I realized that Mommy and Seth were not going to look for seats for us. We were going to stand up. We stood in the back of St. Patrick’s. We watched and listened. After awhile, the only thing I could hear was Andrew. He was humming “Jingle Bells.” And he was rattling the coins in his pocket.

  Mommy and Seth heard him, too. “Okay. Time to go,” said Mommy. “Put your church money in one of the boxes on your way out.”

  Andrew never has very much money. He is too little to earn money, the way I do. So mostly he just gets money on his birthday. On that Sunday, I knew he had exactly fifty-four cents. He put two dimes and a nickel in the box. I had $14.11. I put only one dime in the box. I did not think I could afford any more. I had not found presents for Hannie and Nancy, but when I did they would be expensive.

  “Mommy, what time is it?” I asked as we walked outside.

  “A little after eleven. Why?”